London's Burning
by hellokhaleesi
Summary: AU Humanverse. Caroline Forbes has a secret admirer, but he's not exactly leaving poetry in her locker. A dangerous encounter on the streets of London throws her in the middle of a war fuelled by revenge and loyalty. She's got cross hairs on her back and two dangerous men on her tail... but which one will hurt her, and which one will save her? Rated M for language and dark themes


_**AU: So this is my first real attempt at an AU, and also writing in first person, so please go easy on me. I'm not really going to dedicate any real time to this until I've finished The Fire in my Veins, this was just an idea I had that I had to get down. I'll carry it on if I get a good enough response, so really it's all up to you :) As ever, thank you taking the time to read my story :) Also, if anyone was to make a cover for this story, I would cry little happy tears and I'd marry you (totes legit).**_

"I got my eyes on you, you're everything that I see

I want you hot love and emotion endlessly

I can't get over you, you left your mark on me"

~.~.~.~

"Elena, it's half past eleven at night." I groaned.

"And we have no milk, so no tea, or coffee, or cereal or pancakes."

Elena was ill. Naturally, she was still sweet and innocent looking, regardless of the shade of red that lined her eyes or whatever fluids were leaking from her face. I might have been being childish, refusing to go get milk so my sick best friend could have a cup of tea, but it wasn't technically my turn, according to the rota.

"Please, Care!"

"It's Kat's turn!"

This was, of course, irrelevant. Katerina wouldn't return to the house for another ten hours, minimum. It was Saturday, and she'd sent me and Elena the coded text of a winky face and three kisses. Three kisses meant a level three guy. We'd be lucky if we saw her before Monday.

Elena, in comparison, was curled up on the sofa in one of her boyfriend's shirts with a growing mountain of tissues beside her and a litre bottle of water. My heart went out to the girl. The puppy eyes she threw at me might have ruined it a bit, but I'm Caroline Forbes, and while I might be a bitch sometimes, I can't let a friend suffer without tea. The plus side of that was Elena would make pancakes in the morning.

My eyes softened a little as she coughed, the wretched, raw sound completely surreal coming from such a small girl. I gave up. What a pushover. "I'll be back in ten minutes."

She beamed, her eyes twitching with the effort of holding back another coughing fit. I smoothed down the mess she was making of her hair as I zipped up my coat and grabbed my keys.

As I stepped outside, the cold was biting. Harsh, sharp cold. The kind of cold that makes your skin feel like open wounds and your fingers painful to move. Stuffing my headphones in my ears, I concentrated on the music and the streets in a pointless attempt to detract from how the air was already nipping at my face and my hands.

Deep in my subconscious, I knew that a lone woman on the streets of London this late at night was an invitation for trouble. I also knew that if someone answered that invitation, I'd be hopeless; I was an event organiser, not a bodyguard. But my best friend was ill and I was a good person, so I dismissed logic and simply walked a little faster. The shops weren't more than a ten minute walk away anyway.

If I had been more observant, I might have noticed the subtle song of a stilled car engine behind me. I might have noticed that there was a strange lack of people out that night. I might have even noticed that I was being followed. But Duran Duran held me attention in an iron grip, and hindsight's a bitch.

~.~.~.~

I gripped my stirring wheel tightly as I watched her go. It was mesmerising; the soft swish of her blonde locks as she walked, the sway of her hips, the gentle sound of her humming along to the song she listened to. I knew by now her penchant for music from the 80's. I thought it was insufferable, but Caroline enjoyed it.

As she cleared the corner, disappearing behind a block of flats, I slowly drove up behind her. Discretion was paramount here, and getting caught was not an option. If she did, I'd be behind bars before I could explain. The word of an attractive, young event planner against the likes of me? I'd be thankful the UK didn't enforce the death penalty. I knew the chances of her noticing were slim to none, for she wasn't the most observant of creatures, but there was too much at risk not to consider every possibility.

The walk to the shops from there was a straight line, a blissfully uninterrupted street clear of trees or shadows. I could watch her walk to and back from the shops without moving an inch.

There was a part of me that loved this. Watching her. Watching her live a normal, human life. Going to the shops, going to work, going to a friend's. It was so peacefully monotonous. It was so calm. Sitting where I was, I could learn every tiny detail about her from the safest distance. She favoured ankle boots. She was right handed. She was born in Virginia. She had a taste in music that would be appalling with anyone else, but was made endearing by her. She had an ass I could watch for days without the slightest twinge of guilt – especially in those jeans.

There was also a part of me that wanted nothing more than to protect her. That pale skin looked so easily bruised, and I would have walked into traffic if I thought it would save her. It was a sick, twisted obsession and I knew it was destined to fail, but there was the tiniest slither of optimism in me that crushed that thought into the depths of my mind. I was sure that there was probably more than one psychologist that would love to analyse this insane, obsessive, possessive monster that simmered so close to the surface of my skin, but I was in no mood to be poked and prodded. I knew what I was, and I knew what I wanted.

The tiny shop was situated in the middle of a row of houses, the only light besides the occasional living room light shining through the curtains and the street lamps that could be seen. She was less than one hundred yards from it; once she was inside, she'd be safe.

The silhouette I spotted out of the corner of my eye, barely visible in my peripheral vision was one I recognised. It made my heart pound against my chest to see him so close.

Panic set in and I revved the engine, desperate to distract him. When he didn't even glance my way, panic was replaced with blind fear, and I pressed hard on the accelerator. I hurtled towards them at growing speeds, the car vibrating beneath me. Like a deer in headlights, I saw the momentary decision he made, but it was not one I predicted.

He grabbed her by the waist and tackled her to the floor. She let out a piercing scream that instinctively made me press the brake pedal near through the floor of my car. I skidded to a halt next to them. She was yelling, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. Throwing open the door, I opened my mouth to threaten him with some very haphazard organ removal if he didn't get off her.

"Hey!"

"Get away from her creep!" he yelled back, protectively shielding her. I did a double take; what did he just call me?

Caroline scrambled to her feet, her hair tangled and her clothes scuffed. "What the fuck?"

"This psycho tried to run you over, I'm sorry I was so rough, I just panicked..." he apologised. I had to give it to him. His acting was a lot better than mine. He had to have one hell of a poker face to call me psycho.

"You what?" she screeched, turning on me. I opened my mouth to explain but she cut me off. "If I ever see you again, I'll call the police, you fucking freak."

I was dumbfounded. I'd played every situation in which she found out about me, and this was certainly not what I imagined. She looked disgusted at me – that was a given – but she was cowering behind _him_. He was glaring at me like I had just tried to steal his prey.

"C'mon, I'll walk you home. Do you live far?" he asked, not taking his eyes off me for a second. She mumbled about it not being far, and thanked him, keeping him in between us as she walked away.

If I thought I had been panicked before, now I was damn near terrified. Not only could she identify me, he knew me and now I was never going to get close enough to her to help. She probably knew what car I drove, too, so I couldn't follow her any more. I slammed my fist on the bonnet of my car, desperately trying to think of a plan to save us both.

~.~.~.~

I was shaking. Shaking, deep down in my bones. Every inch of me couldn't stop shaking, and I knew it wasn't the cold.

The man walking next to me couldn't have been much older than me – no more than twenty five – but his eyes made him look forty. They were deep-set, dark. It was eerie. But, he was built like a rugby player, and after someone had just tried to kill me, a walking chunk of muscle beside me wasn't exactly a downfall.

I could tell from the way he was looking at me he wanted to do something... anything. Put his arm around me, hold my hand, tell me I was going to be okay. If I had to guess, I'd say he was nervous about crossing a line after he'd just thrown me on the ground, no matter how good his intentions. It wasn't the best ice breaker.

As we got closer to my house, I began to calm down. Rationality set in. There wasn't a sight or a sound that suggested there was any car coming anywhere near us, so I got a good look at my rescuer. Tanned skin, thick set shoulders and very dark hair. Cheekbones like an aristocrat, accent like a drug dealer. The guy was hard to read. When he asked what I was doing on the streets that late at night, I explained in near hysterics how I only wanted a pint of milk. I knew I was rambling, but there was an awkward silence, and I was unsure of the etiquette that followed someone rescuing you from a hit and run. We caught eye contact, both realising I'd gone off on a tangent about how pretty Elena looked, even when she had the flu and we both started laughing. It wasn't weird, as I might have imagined, it was almost relaxed, given the situation. His eyes told tales I wasn't sure I wanted to listen to, but that laugh, that smile... he was almost boyish.

We arrived at my door. "Well, er. This is me."

There was silence.

"Thank you, so much. For what you did."

"It's fine, no hassle at all." he shrugged. "Not exactly every day I get to save a pretty girl."

I raised my eyebrow at that, and he cringed. "I'm sorry, tact isn't exactly my strong suit."

I laughed. "It's okay, it's not like tonight could get any weirder. I'd ask if you wanted a cup of tea, but funnily enough, we have no milk, and my room-mate is contagious, so..."

"It's all right, I should be getting home anyway."

I paused. He was cute and chivalrous. It was a rare combination. I know my imagination sometimes needed a good slap, and this would be the weirdest situation in which to pull, but it certainly wasn't dull.

"Well, thank you. And for walking me home." I smiled. "I'm Caroline, by the way. Caroline Forbes."

He grinned. "Nice to meet you Caroline, I'm Tyler Lockwood."

_**So yeah, this is the first chapter. Hopefully you liked if, and if you did, remember to review and alert or whatever you like, because I think this could be really good if it got the time it deserved. Like I said, I wont do that until I've finished TFimV, but if I get a good enough response, that might change.**_

_**Thank you, as ever,**_

_**Jess x**_


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